The Aimbot Infection
by BoshBosh
Summary: How do you stop the perfect virus?
1. Prologue

Marcus began laughing excitedly. He quickly dropped his bag on the table and showed the rest of his gang the cyberbrain he collected. "We finally got a Culter brain!" he shouted. "With this, we can finally pay off the Roaches! We'll be free!" The rest of the gang quickly thrust their rifles into the air and yelled in unison. Marcus wasted no time and scanned the brain immediately. "Woah-ho-ho," he cried out, "This one's a doozie! There must be at least 20 terabytes worth of clearance codes, and they're all ours."

Marcus' second-in-command, Trip, was visibly concerned. "Marcus, we shouldn't waste time," he warned. "The Roaches don't want an empty cyberbrain."

"Shut up," Marcus snapped back. "We'll just tell them it's clean-pristine." Trip felt no need to push his luck any further and let the boss do as he wished. Beeps and blips continued to fill the air as Marcus busily searched the cyberbrain for anything of special value. Half an hour passed and he maintained full speed. His gang had lost interest and began going back to drinking and then shooting the empty bottles that piled up. Amidst all the rowdiness that built up, Marcus was trying to get everyone's attention but couldn't be heard over all the Rotten Mound shots and loud music being played. To get above the noise, he grabbed a steel drum, armed a grenade and threw it in. The explosion concentrated into a small cylinder not only blew a hole in the wall but was also loud enough to deafen him temporarily. He clasped his hands over the side of his head in an effort to steady his shaken world. Once hearing came back, he looked up to find he had his gang's attention again. "I found upgrade schematics for those of you with implants. It says here they-", he stopped talking mid-sentence. The gang was confused.

Trip approached him. "Hey Marky boy, did you find a word with more than ten letters in it or what?" he asked. Marcus didn't move a muscle. It was as if he'd been frozen in place. "Come on sleepyhead, your bed is over there with all the over bags of trash we need to burn." Marcus' head turned to face him in an instant. Trip jumped back in shock. "Oi, what's your deal, dickhead?" Marcus reached towards his KA strapped to his back. Trip reacted quickly and pulled out his BK13 but he wasn't quick enough. Marcus' had gotten hold of his KA and within the timespan of one second, snapped the gun towards Trip's head and pulled the trigger. The bullet pierced his skull without any sign of hindrance. The rest of the gang froze in fear. There's trouble afoot when a looter leader executes his second-in-command without as much as a second thought. Marcus' eyes locked onto his next target and the process repeated. The gun snapped to the position of his next victims head and shot before the previously fired bullet even reached its destination.

The federal police finally arrived after receiving a distress call sent out by nearby civilians. The cops kicked down the front door to the warehouse but only found twenty-one dead bodies, a massive hole in the wall and shattered windows.


	2. The Reports

Ogilvy sat at the vantage point while preparing his TKM. He inserted the magazine, pulled back the bolt and attached the scope, each stage bringing sweet sounds of metal pieces locking into place. He referred back to his cyberbrain through his visor display to remind him of the description of his target. Relaxing the base of the sniper rifle on the edge of the hotel he was stationed at, he looked down the scope. The target was out in the open, rummaging through an ATM he shot up. Ogilvy held his breath to take the shot, but was interrupted by an incoming transmission. He lifted his left hand to his helmet and tapped twice. "Go ahead," he whispered.

"Abort mission," said Aahmiah. "You're presence has been requested back at the New Eden station." Ogilvy grunted in anger, his time having been wasted. He tapped on his helmet once and fired the rifle. The .50 AD round flew in a straight line and ignited the remains of the ATM, causing glass to go everywhere. The target was startled and began firing into the air, catching the attention of the nearby Federation patrol. What ensued was a short firefight, and Ogilvy watched the whole thing before attaching his rifle to his back and setting off downstairs. He got into his car and drove off to the New Eden Federal headquarters.

Ogilvy was greeted by the guards at the front doors. Upon entering, he headed for the soda vending machine before being intercepted by Pilkins. Pilkins was holding onto a collection of holonotes. "Ogilvy, look these over and head to the commander's office. You've got an assignment," ordered Pilkins in his less-than-threatening voice.

"Right away," replied Ogilvy. He knew better than to keep the commander waiting. As the elevator made it's ascension up the many floors of the building, he decided he might actually look at the holonotes. They were all regarding reports of strange cases involving looter infighting. Entire gangs have wiped themselves out with the remaining survivor of each gang having showing no sign of outside stimulus before their body shuts down entirely. As far as Ogilvy was concerned, they could all die that way; looters are looters. Ogilvy reached the top floor and read the holographic sign on the wall to his right. It read "Commander Ilupen". He knocked on the door at the end of the small landing once before opening it and walking inside. Commander Ilupen stood still, staring out his one-way window that covered %60 of the wall.

"Take a seat," said Ilupen. "Would you like to take a shot?"

"Derezin isn't my type of drink, sir," replied Ogilvy. He pulled out the chair in front of the desk and sat down, arms on his lap.

"Good. Because if you became an alcoholic, I'd have to send you to get harvested and executed." Ilupen turned to face Ogilvy with both his hands behind his back. His helmet retracted back into his chest plate. "If you read the holonotes, you'd know that looters are dying left, right and centre."

"A bunch of looters getting pissy over arguments isn't a good enough reason to call off a hit," Ogilvy stated. "There's more to it."

"Exactly." Ilupen turned around again to face the thriving city of New Eden. "I wouldn't care about dead looters even if they were my family, but when the same thing happens to SPEC-4 squads that I've sent to investigate, I get worried." Once more, he turns to face Ogilvy before sitting down at his desk, fingers entwined and elbows on the desk. "We assumed a metastreumonic force was behind this but our metastreum detectors couldn't find a signal large enough to have any effect on anything at all. This could only leave two possible perpetrators; E.Y.E agents taking action against us or a cyber-entity."

"So what do you want me to do?" asked Ogilvy.

"You'll find out what the hell is going on with my men and put an end to it," declared Ilupen. "So far the suicides have only been happening here in New Eden, so that narrows your search."

"I'll do what I can."

"Glad to hear it, Ogilvy," said Ilupen. Ogilvy rose from his chair and headed to the door. "Oh, before you leave, Ogilvy; remove your helmet. You're on Federal grounds. The only protection your head needs is protection from Aahmiah's lectures." Ogilvy tapped his neck on the left side and then the right. His left and right mouthguards slid to the back of his head, his visor pulled back over his scalp and the rest of the helmet slid down into the neck of the chest piece.

"Thanks for the tip." Ogilvy looked away and continued towards the elevator. He called the elevator and left the building. He approached his car and before he could enter, a hurried Pilkins ran towards him.

"Ogilvy," he called, "Aahmiah wanted to see you before you left. You should go see him now." Ogilvy showed Pilkins no acknowledgement as he returned to the front doors. The doors slid open and Aahmiah was already standing there. He gestured for Ogilvy to follow and he walked up to his office in the dispatch department. Ogilvy was hoping he had escaped the vacant concrete walls that make up the interiors of most Federal buildings for the night, but unfortunately, duty calls. Upon entering the room, Ogilvy was calmed by the pleasant smell of burning incense. Aahmiah was a profound Buddhist, a Dark Ages religion. On his desk, next to his computer sat a Chinese cat figurine complete with a waving arm and a large smile. Why preserve an extinct religion was beyond most of the Federal agents that resided in this particular station, but it was never brought up in conversation often. Even though Aahmiah believes in peace, he has no morals against shooting anyone on sight with his beloved 444K revolver. He carried it with him on all operations, he carried it around the home, and he carried it to funerals. He was as loyal to it as it was to him; as long as he gave it targets to fire at, it would make each hit count. It was a very beautiful relationship.

Ogilvy waited as Aahmiah rummaged through one of his shelves. He pulled out sheets, inactive holonotes and memory storages and put them all back. Eventually, he gave up and turned to his steel cabinet, the light of the sun protruding the polluted green fog of New Eden and onto the glistening metal. The gauntlet around his hand retracted itself as he placed it on a screen. The cabinet doors slid open and revealed not a collection of guns as many would expect, but a large collection of 444K rounds, each gently placed into speed-loaders and clustered in little steel bandoliers. He picked out six of them and inserted them into the compartments of his Federal SpecFor armour. "Are you preparing for a duel?" asked Ogilvy.

"No, my dear Ogilvy," Aahmiah replied in a soothing tone, "I am accompanying you on this investigation. If Commander Ilupen were kind enough to have told you, you would've known and not have left as quickly as you could."

"You can't blame a man for wanting to leave a building like this," said Ogilvy.

"Of course not. Cement walls could discomfort a psi-monk." It was common knowledge that monks trained in the arts of psi-powers were stress-tested in terrible conditions. Ogilvy gave a light chuckle and left the room, Aahmiah in tow. As they both reached the lobby, Pilkins got up with his hand out as though he was about to start a conversation. Ogilvy didn't gave him any acknowledgment, but Aahmiah pulled out his revolver and gave him a light slap across the face without looking at him as they both continued out the front door. Ogilvy got into the driver's seat of his car and Aahmiah took his place of honour in the passenger seat.

Ogilvy looked at Aahmiah. "Where should we look first?"

"We'll gather some Looters' sides of the stories at the nearby piss-foundry," said Aahmiah in a lightly humorous tone.

"Sounds like fun," replied Ogilvy in an entertained voice. Aahmiah nodded with a smile and as they both turned to face the front, their helmets reconstructed around their faces and they drove off.

_-{Ogilvy Minorum: Monologue File #00029}_

_TIMESTAMP: 19/12/0013_

_I was an agent of E.Y.E before I became a fed. I received all the training and all the technology you could fit in a body that all initiates got. I turned on them when the internal wars became a distraction from our common goal: destroy the metastreum. Soldier that turn their arses on their own organizations are lucky to see the next day, but I was even luckier. I snuck out and deleted all evidence that I was there. Somebody had to take the fall for erasing me, so I pinned it on a Jian. I know it will fuel the war even further, but I don't care anymore. I am my own man; a man that the Federation pays thousands of brouzofs per hour of service._

_{End Holonote}-_


	3. The First Step

Ogilvy pulled up beside the bar. The air instantly filled with the sound of loud music, laughing men and glass occasionally shattering. The sign above the door read "Den of Decay" in bright green words stylised with slimy drips. He turned to Aahmiah, whose current expression was hidden behind the shiny red metal that protected his face. Aahmiah was looking out his passenger window, wondering why anyone would feel compelled to purchase alcohol from a place that reeks of vomit and garbage. Ogilvy tapped Aahmiah on the shoulder and they both faced each other. "Ready?" asked Ogilvy.

"Better now than later when the sun has set," replied Aahmiah in a hesitant tone.

"Right on," chanted Ogilvy with false enthusiasm. He removed his combat machete from his left leg holster and inserted it into his chest compartment for quick access. Aahmiah pulled out his revolver and checked the barrel for bullets. Satisfied, he spun the barrel and knocked the latch, locking the barrel in place before placing it back into his right leg holster. They both exited the car in synchronisation and marched into the bar. They stopped in front of the door and took a look at all the current occupants of the bar. Looters. Every single one of them. Tables and chairs rattled with each guitar chord that stormed out of the speakers that sat at each corner of the ceiling. The duo couldn't hear their own thoughts over the noise that almost deafened them.

Ogilvy approached the bartender while Aahmiah stood and watched from the doors. He leaned onto the bench and put two fingers together into the air, signalling for service. The bartender put down the mug he was polishing and walked over slowly. "What could I get a fine lookin' Fed like you?"

"Oh, nothing just yet," said Ogilvy. "Just wanted to say you'd think a band was playing live here."

"A shithole like this couldn't supply enough room for any actual band to play y'know?" the bartender stated. "You gonna order a drink or make conversation? 'Cause this ain't a shitty chatroom."

"I'm looking for something that will help me unwind," said Ogilvy as he stretched his arms behind his head. "I was just fired and I'm too pissed to give a shit what I put in my system."

"I've got what ya want," nodded the bartender. "Come 'round back, don't want none of these fucks knowing you got this stuff on you." He laughed heartily. Ogilvy got up from the bench and followed him into the back. As they reached the end of the alley, the bartender reached around into his denim vest and pulled out a small glass vial of a black liquid. He looked up to Ogilvy, and then he worked out that Ogilvy was not fired, and was not after drugs.

"Gangs of looters are committing suicide and I want to know why," demanded Ogilvy.

"You didn't have to lie to me, could've just asked," said the bartender, cooperatively. "It's worrying for me because dead looters don't pay shit when they dead. The name's Archie. I can keep an ear out for you lot if you promise to leave me and my drug selling alone."

"We don't need extra ears, Archie," exclaimed Ogilvy in a threatening tone. "We've got ears everywhere you couldn't imagine ears would fit. What I want is what you know and I want it now before me and my partner destroys more than a few windows."

"Woah now, this bar is all I have. I'm telling you, I know nothing!" Archie was visibly scared. "But if you want to know the goings-ons within the streets, go find Mernov. He's knows everything about the now and before so he'll have your answer. Now please, leave me and my bar alone alright?"

"Right." Ogilvy walked back inside and nodded towards Aahmiah. Ogilvy grabbed a drink from one of the tables, retracted his mouthguard and drank. The looter it belonged to wasn't happy about having his drink stolen.

"You gon' pay for a new one you ignorant shit!" he yelled. Ogilvy ignored him and kept walking towards the exit. As he walked out, Aahmiah pulled out his revolver and shot one of the speakers before following Ogilvy. The looter pursuing Ogilvy froze in shock. The looters that remained in the bar started to get rowdier after hearing the gunshot, laughs turning into yelling. Ogilvy looked at Aahmiah.

"Was that really necessary?" Ogilvy asked.

"Yes," said Aahmiah almost instantly. He got into the car while Ogilvy stared back at the bar. He took a moment to think about how such a rusty pile of junk could mean so much to a man. Aahmiah knocked on the car window from the inside, pulling Ogilvy out of his thought.

The duo arrived back at the New Eden Federal station. Aahmiah returned to his office and Ogilvy sought out Pilkins. Pilkins was not at his office. He waited at Pilkins' office until he returned from wherever he could be. When Pilkins arrived at his own office, he was startled to see Ogilvy had already made his way in and was staring out the window. "If you didn't have your helmet off," said Pilkins, "I'd have pinned you as Ilupen, what with your staring out the window like he does."

"Great," Ogilvy said. "I need you to gather intel on a lead."

"I'm your guy."

"He's a looter named Mernov," instructed Ogilvy. "A bartender downtown told us he'd have better experience with the current affairs. I'm not sure if I'm walking into a trap or not so I want to know whether or not he exists, and if he does, everything about him. I want to know his codenames, his activities, his frickin' pet dog's name, everything."

"Alright then, I'll send an invoice to the research team off-world," replied Pilkins. "Give us maybe 24 hours."

"Take your time." Ogilvy patted Pilkins on the shoulder and walked out the door. Pilkins wiped his shoulder as though he had been given a dead arm. Ogilvy was on his way to the car, only to be stopped again. He turned to face the interceptor. "What now?" he said, in an impatient tone. It was Aahmiah.

"Sorry to stop you from going home and being angry at everything," said Aahmiah, "but you've got a visitor at your office."

"Who?"

"La Roux."

"Oh for crying out loud," said Ogilvy. "The hell does she want?"

"Hehehe, you," Aahmiah said with a giggle of pure schadenfreude.

"And you couldn't tell her to bugger off?"

"Nope, not at all."

"Bloody fuck."

"Have fun you two." They both returned inside the building. Ogilvy made his way to the office while Aahmiah went back to his office, trying ever so hard to hold back the laughter. Ogilvy walked into his office to find it completely empty. This could only mean one thing.

"Get out," instructed Ogilvy. "You can't hide from me in my own office."

"You look good today," said La Roux. "Did you do something to your hair?"

"Get out," Ogilvy repeated. La Roux crawled out from on top of his ceiling fan and lowered herself down without making a sound. Her black skin-tight suit almost blended in with the dark corners of the walls and would have disappeared completely had her goggles not been powered on.

"What's the magic word?" La Roux said, teasingly.

"I'm not in the mood, Roux," said Ogilvy. "I picked up another case today and I don't need you doing the polar opposite of your job and getting in the way."

"My job is to make sure everything is fine," she corrected.

"In the battlefield, not in my detective line."

"Oh, especially outside the battlefield." Ogilvy was losing his patience.

"I won't ask again," he warned one last time.

"You know, you'd be slightly threatening if you didn't have such a bad Afrikaans accent. We all know people with accents from the Dark Ages are stuck in the Dark Ages."

"Get out of my office!" La Roux opened up his office window then crawled out and up the building. Ogilvy gave a heavy sigh and sat down at his office desk. Dealing with that dreaded SpecFor tracker always takes a lot out of him. He laid his head on his desk and rested a little before going downstairs and into Aahmiah's office. Inside, Aahmiah sat in the corner of his office, Dark Ages relaxation music playing from his armour speakers, his helmet still on. "What in the world are you doing Aahm?" asked Ogilvy.

"Relaxing," said Aahmiah. "I need to be ready for our upcoming investigation. I don't know how dangerous it will be so I am going to try and be in top physical and mental condition."

"Alright, you keep doing that. I'm about to finally go home."

"Don't let anyone stop you." Ogilvy nodded towards him and left the building. He hovered his hand over his car door handle just in case anyone wanted to interrupt him. He looked around a little bit and, finally satisfied that he may go home, he plunged his hand towards the handle. What he felt was not the door handle, but someone else who happened to be cloaked and standing right in front of him.

"La Roux, can you kindly go be useless somewhere else?" sighed Ogilvy. La Roux deactivated her cloaking and materialised in front of him, her hand on the door handle.

"Fine then," she sputtered. "It's not like I was going to be a gentleman and open the door for you."

"You're a woman, an annoying one too. It's meant to be the other way around."

"I'm right, you are stuck in the Dark Ages." Ogilvy opened his car door and got in. Before he finished closing his door, La Roux had opened the passenger side door and stood there. He reached over to close the passenger door only to find out that La Roux had opened the driver door. She nudged him over to the passenger seat and buckled herself in the driver seat.

"Get out of my car," Ogilvy calmly said. La Roux stared him in the eyes through her bright gold goggles and shook her head. "Please don't do this." She shook her head again. "Who the hell recruited you?"

"Same guy that recruited you," replied La Roux.

"And who would that be?" asked Ogilvy.

"Dunno," said La Roux before she pulled back the gearstick and slammed the accelerator. The car sped off, in directions known only to La Roux.

_-{Aahmiah Trinary: Monologue File #00306}_

_TIMESTAMP: 02/01/0011_

_I don't like what happened to the world. I spent countless hours reading about the Dark Ages; before Orus, before intergalactic space travel, before the Federation. Back then, the world was simple. We were all humans and we carried on, researching better technologies and just finding new ways to keep everyone happy. Or so the archives told me. No one would know exactly anymore, there's no way. But I can tell you that the consortium only brought a massive step down in terms of civilization. There is no government anymore, only planets with their own rules and laws. If you weren't a part of the Federation, you were a part of the not-so-secret Secreta. If you weren't a part of the Secreta, you were a looter. If you weren't a looter, you were nothing. You were extra human population dumped on a "civilian" planet with only the hope of perpetual tranquillity keeping you alive. No one cared about you, you were outside of everyone's concerns. In other words, you only meant something to the ones you died for. Even then, if the acid rain didn't dissolve your gravestone, it was scrapped for brouzofs. _

_{End Holonote}-_


	4. La Roux

"Go on then, get out," coaxed La Roux.

"Where did you take me?" asked Ogilvy.

"My house!" she replied, excitedly.

"Why did you take me to your house?" asked a now annoyed Ogilvy.

"Because you needed a break from work and your home. Everyone at the station knows that you have a boring apartment so I felt like you should enjoy the good side of life."

"Whatever," said Ogilvy. He got out of his car and approached La Roux's front door. He turned and waited for her to open the door. She slowly walked up to the door as though she wanted Ogilvy to admire her body. Ogilvy stood there impatiently, waiting to get inside, steal a few bottles of neo-whiskey and drive home.

When she reached the door, she stared at Ogilvy. "You gonna be a gentleman and open the door for me or what?" she asked.

"I don't have the key, you child." She pulled out a small silver and glowing green rod from her left pocket, jabbed it into the door handle and put it back. Ogilvy turned the door handle and pulled the door across. The walls were made of burgundy wood and the furniture was lined with lightly sparkly titanium. It was impressive to see in a city like New Eden. He pulled up a stool alongside the kitchen bench and sat down, waiting for whatever surprises La Roux was going to spring on him.

"What'll you have?" La Roux asked in a terrible impression of a looter bartender.

"Funny," Ogilvy replied. "What do you have?"

"I've got water and whatever is left in that fridge." She pointed towards a steel fridge sitting in the corner of the kitchen. Ogilvy got up and walked over to the fridge. He was sceptical that there would be anything of interest to him, but found just what he wanted; neo-whiskey. He grabbed two bottles, putting one into his chest compartment and opening the other. "You're not seriously planning on stealing one from good ol' La Roux are you?" she asked.

"I only took one," Ogilvy lied.

"Don't be silly around a tracker. I can see everything. It's okay, I'll let you have it in honour of our new relationship," she said happily.

"We're not friends, you just kidnapped me and now I'm getting compensation for my time."

"I did you a favour," she said. "Now my address is permanently in your known locations and it'll make for some great conversation about how you got to get inside the home of the sexiest tracker in the whole Federation."

"I'm sure it will. I'm leaving now."

"No," she said with an exaggerated 'o'. "Don't leave me, we're best friends!"

"I can assure you that I am closer friends with Aahmiah than you."

"Harsh." Ogilvy made his way back to his car and tried to open the door. The door was locked.

"You didn't," he said out loud. He turned to look back at La Roux standing in the doorway with his car keys in one hand.

"Yeah I did," she said proudly. "And now you have to stay with me until I'm happy."

"You'll pay for this one day." Ogilvy walked back inside and sat on the sofa in front of La Roux's impressively large television. "How much does the Federation pay you? Seriously."

"More than you," she replied tauntingly. "You can tell by how I have a house and you have an apartment."

"Are you going to berate me while I'm stuck at your house or will you be kind to your guest?"

"I'll do whatever I please," she answered teasingly. She jumped into the air and landed next to Ogilvy on the sofa. Ogilvy slid across the sofa, away from her. La Roux saw this as an invitation to lie down on her stomach, hands supporting her head on her elbows and calves moving to and fro in the air. "So what are you investigating?" she asked, the line between genuine and faked interest blurred.

Ogilvy felt like there was no way out of it, and gave in. "There have been groups of looters shooting themselves in the head like a massive suicide pact. The same thing happened to a scouting squad in the warehouses. Commander Ilupen wants me to find out why."

"Metal," she commented. "What do you know so far?"

"I know a bartender named Archie and a name; Mernov. That's it."

"Wow, you're slow."

"That tends to happen when you get abducted by a co-worker." They both returned to silence and continued to watch the television. They were watching a sitcom about an Orus and two humans. The Orus would cover his third eye with a material so he'd appear human and use it to get into places he wasn't allowed if they knew who he was. It wasn't a very funny show.

La Roux spoke up. "I should invite Aahmiah over. He seems more fun than you."

"He won't be interested," replied Ogilvy.

"I like Aahmiah's office," La Roux said. "I especially like the cat thing he has on his desk. Should I get one? I'm not sure because it's his style and I don't want to—"

"Can I go home?" asked Ogilvy.

"Don't you want to see me at least take off my headgear and be amazed by my beautiful eyes?" she replied, putting on an insulted tone.

"Well, it does seem odd we're just watching television while wearing armour. No." Ogilvy quickly dived towards the table and grabbed his car keys. Finally free to go, he marched his way back to his car. He took one final look towards La Roux's door and saw her standing in the doorway with her hands on her hips. He drove off as quickly as he could back to his apartment. Ogilvy sent a voice message to Aahmiah: "If she ever comes to my office again, tell her to fuck off." Once he was home, he retracted his headgear, fell back onto his couch and thought about what has occurred the previous two days and what might possibly be in store for him in the future.

-{Belle "La Roux" Isele: Monologue File #72011}

TIMESTAMP: 23/01/0010

HAPPY NEW DECADE! God damn did that party just keep on going on. Don't get me wrong, I love parties, but 25 days could wear out an Orus escort let alone little ol' me. I'm so glad I joined the Federation because if I wasn't with them, I'd still be one of those freakin' losers cleaning up the joint. Maybe if those dickwits were actually useful, they wouldn't be wasting their precious little lives cleaning up after everyone else's enjoyment. But we all know bad things happen to people who deserve it so it's really none of my business. Just like that Higgins. She thought she was such hot stuff rubbing her junk all over the commander the whole time. Fucking bitch. That's not how you get a position. You kill the only other person in line. Just like I did. Take that you stupid fucking bitch! I am the number one tracker in the whole Federation and you won't forget that now will ya? HAPPY NEW DECADE YOU SLUT!

{End Holonote}-


	5. Mernov

"Just send in a sexual harassment report and that'll get rid of her for a while," suggest Aahmiah.

"She's not assigned to this HQ," said Ogilvy, "so dobbing her in will require going off-world and that just makes Ilupen think I'm off task."

"But then she's gone, yeah? Isn't that what you want?"

"Bugger it, she's gone for now and we still have an investigation to carry out."

"Roger that," said Aahmiah. "What's our plan for today then, chief?"

"Get your gear together and meet me at the front door; I've got Mernov's location and Pilkins' intel says he will most likely not let us do this peacefully."

"Sounds like fun." Aahmiah extended his helmet over his head and got stuck into his revolver cabinet. Ogilvy retreated to his office where he perused his armoury for the right set up. He figured his best bet would be a Depezador 12 Gauge for his back compartment, two grenades attached to his right arm, Motra silenced SMG on his right thigh and Motra magazines on his left. He only took two magazines for his Depezador to remain lightweight in case he needs to get away. He relied on Aahmiah to supply any medical items for the possible firefight up ahead. Satisfied with his selection, Ogilvy left the building and stood by the front steps. Aahmiah soon joined him and they both marched towards his car.

"The coordinates are—" Ogilvy began to explain, but was cut off by Aahmiah.

"I know where to go," Aahmiah raised his hand to Ogilvy. "You aren't the only one that talks to Pilkins. But I tell ya what; you're going to love where we're going." Aahmiah slammed down the accelerator and set off to Mernov's position. The tall, bright-lit buildings sped past the windows on the car. Such a large and lively city housed such crazy goings-ons, thought Ogilvy. What he wouldn't give to be assigned somewhere different, somewhere beautiful, somewhere with less carcinogens in the air. Nevertheless, he was grateful for his situation. He's occupied, he's working alongside his best friend and his life wasn't in any particular danger at that point in time. But then the car stopped and he fell out of his little daydreaming session. "You ready for this?" asked Aahmiah.

"Ready." Ogilvy extended his helmet over his face and unbuckled his belt. Just before he opened the car door, Aahmiah grabbed his attention, his fist clenched and in the air. Ogilvy pressed his fist against his and they both got out of the car. He looked up and saw the big bright green sign that said "MERNOV STEAK AND DOOBS". That's one way to hide a bandit organisation, thought Ogilvy. Upon entering the building, the two investigators found only intoxicated men sprawled across the ground, a few sitting on the couch, and one standing behind a counter. The one at the counter was visibly startled and ran for his life through the back of the kitchen. Ogilvy and Aahmiah gave chase, mantling the counter, knocking over the register and navigating the mess of employees and hanging pots that were a kitchen. Upon exiting the kitchen, they spotted the man running through the alley. Tired of running, Ogilvy removed a grenade from his arm and pegged it at the back of the man's head. The force of the two kilogram explosive made him lose balance. Luckily for everybody, the grenade wasn't armed.

Ogilvy grabbed the man by the back of his jacket and through him against the concrete wall. Aahmiah stepped up, turned him around and held him against the wall by his shoulders. "Why did you run?" asked Ogilvy.

"I thought you was the health inspectahs. They always the violent type!" said the man, panicked and frightened.

"Are you Mernov?"

"Yeah, that's me. What do you guys want from me?"

"Bandits have been murdering each other in small groups. Now I don't give two shits about people like you, but when the same thing happens to the Federation, I get up in people's grills."

"That ain't got nothing to do with me!"

"A bartender down the road said you specifically know enough about what's going on."

"He did? But my guys here reckon I don't and that you should piss off before they bring the hurt." Mernov nodded forwards and Ogilvy turned his head. The back door now had three men standing there with RM assault rifles pointed towards him. Aahmiah already has his revolver aiming at the man in the centre of the three. "Go on then, let me go. You guys ain't got shit!" Ogilvy and Aahmiah stood there in silence for a few seconds. They were outnumbered three to two. Ogilvy refused to let go of Mernov but feared that it may cost his life in a few seconds when all three of those bandits open fire. Aahmiah looked around for anything that could at least distract them for a second. It was then that he spotted the unarmed grenade on the floor behind the open door. He quickly swung his arm down and shot at the grenade. The .444 bullet was enough to set the grenade off. The explosion blew the door off its hinges, straight into the three men. The door knocked all three of them over and managed to set one on fire. The rifles that was previously in their hands are now far down the alley, out of any dangerous hands. Aahmiah and Ogilvy were both affected by the explosion but their armour managed to keep them standing. As for Mernov, the shrapnel may have blinded him permanently. "Holy shit. Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit, holy crap, god help me," babbled Mernov.

"Now there's no one to argue with us, explain to me why my men are making like intelligent bandits and shooting themselves?" repeated Ogilvy with an impatient tone.

"A'ight, a'ight, a'ight, you got me. Now I ain't done nothin' but I know what ya'll are talking about. My boys and I are tight with the BBB a few miles from here."

"Who are the triple B?"

"They called the Big Black Boys."

"Of course. Go on."

"Now dis what I heard went down…"

-{Camera Feed: CAM0234122#| Location ID: Ablle9223poiiI}

_"__It's in this silver case."_

_"__Legit? Dude, that's amazing! And you say this tech will make my boys get up from head wounds?"_

_"__Resurrectors will revert the body to a working state at which they can either kill their killers, or retreat to a safe location for proper medical examination."_

_"__You had me at kill their killers!"_

_"__Did you bring the brouzofs?"_

_"__Brouzofs? Naah man we thought this was a gift in honour of our relationship."_

_"__Then I have no business with—"_

_"__HAHAHAHA Tray did you see that? Shot him right in the eyeball! Quickly grab the case!"_

_"__Got it Marcus. Um, Marcus..?"_

_"__Holy shit Tray he's getting back up. DON'T JUST STAND THERE YOU IDIOT, FUCKING DO IT. HAHAHAHA YOUR RESURRECTORS WONT GET YOU BACK UP FROM THAT ONE!"_

_"__Oi Marky, we can take his head back and scan his brain and get in on all that Secreta dosh he has."_

_"__Oh lordy this just gets better and better. Quickly, we gotta piss off before the feds come round."_

_-{Disconnect? Disconnecting…}_

"… And then all of a sudden BBB is no more, man, that's all I know!" Ogilvy was silent for a few seconds. If what this bandit described is true, then this investigation is far from over. The Secreta are involved and that meant this was either a planned attack or the Secreta are trying to supply the bandits into starting a revolt against the Federation. A distraction that large will keep every Federal soldier on New Eden way too occupied to fend off any sabotages or assaults. Ogilvy remained too lost in thought to hear the sound of the fire burning, the sound of Mernov crying for his damaged eyes, or to feel Aahmiah drag him by the neck back indoors.

"Snap out of it, Ogg," shouted Aahmiah. "We're out of here."

_-{Pilkins Kappa: Monologue File #00306}_

_TIMESTAMP: 05/02/0012_

_I like to imagine that without me, every Fed on New Eden wouldn't know where to look for most of their entertainment. That's how they see all this right? Entertainment? Arresting illegal refugees does sound pretty entertaining. So does shooting unarmed civilians I suppose. I don't know. I can't really change anything anyway. As the leading source on intel, I'm told what to do and there is never any argument. It pays well, in some way I'm making the world a better place, and I can't be hired anywhere else. People want big burly men with iron flesh. I have a brain at least. When did those go out of fashion? _

_{End Holonote}-_


	6. Going Off-world

Ogilvy patted Pilkins on the back. "Good work, Pilkins," he said. "We found him and got what we wanted all before the sun went down."

"Well, thank you, sir" Pilkins replied, unsure of how to react to such encouragement. "Um, the Commander will want you to talk to him right after something like this."

"Sure, sure. I'll be off then." Ogilvy shook hands with Aahmiah and they both went their separate ways through the New Eden Federal HQ. Ogilvy took to the stairwell while Aahmiah retreated into his office where he replaced all his weaponry and armour before sitting down and relaxing. He looked at all the paintings that coated his plain grey concrete walls. Pictures of Buddha and other Dark Age religious mementos brought him to a more peaceful state of mind. He was glad the operation went down with minimal casualties and was a success. He truly felt accomplished. All of a sudden, a tone started blaring from the phone on his desk and he almost fell back on his chair. When he saw the tone was the Commander summoning him to his office, he let out a loud grunt before leaving the room, feet slapping on the floor like a child leaving the playground.

Ogilvy turned to the doorway to see who the footsteps coming up the corridor belonged to. Aahmiah strolled on in and gave a light punch to Ogilvy's shoulder before positioning himself to the left of him in front of the Commander. Commander Ilupen stood behind his desk, hands behind his back. "Sergeant Ogilvy, Sergeant-Commander Aahmiah, what have you got for me?" Ogilvy tapped on his left armour chest plate and removed a black block. He stepped forward, placed the block onto the table and stepped back. Aahmiah looked at the block and then looked back up at Ogilvy, giving a thumbs up. Ilupen held the block in the air and tapped a small rhythm into the top of it with his fingers. A hologram of audio wavelengths appeared. Mernov's words began to play, describing the BBB, the sudden disappearance, the silver suitcase, the Culter agent. "Men, I don't think any of us knows how the interrogated knew about all this but his word is as good as whatever Head of Intelligence Pilkins can scrounge up so we'll go along with it," started Commander Ilupen. "What it sounds like to me is that a bunch of bandits bit off more than they can chew in Secreta technology. Possibly an argument brought an end to the gang, or possibly it was an attack by the Secreta. If it's the former, than this investigation goes on no longer. But that leaves out the deaths of scouting squad that searched the most recent case of gang infighting so that can only mean the latter. Effective immediately, this investigation is high priority."

Ogilvy and Aahmiah looked at each other and looked back at Commander Ilupen. Ogilvy broke the silence that followed Ilupen's summary. "What do you suppose we do next?" he asked.

"We need to know what the Secreta are up to and if this is their doing," Ilupen instructed. "This will not be easy so I'm going to assemble the other Commanders and discuss our next move. If the Secreta are doing this and plan on targeting us, than this is war. You two are to report back to me tomorrow for further instructions. Until then, dismissed." Ogilvy and Aahmiah saluted the commander and forwarded out of his office.

The duo returned to their offices. Ogilvy found his door wide open even though he swears he had closed it before the meeting with the Commander. "Someone's getting really sloppy," he said out loud. La Roux rose from the other side of his desk and left the room. Ogilvy grew suspicious from the lack of response that he usually expected from encounters such as this. He slowly walked to his desk and sat down at his chair. It was warm, as though someone had already been sitting in it very recently. Letting down his guard, he booted up his computer and perused the dispatch log for anything that could contribute to his investigation. According to the log, two cases of gang infighting and another killed-in-action scout group appeared yesterday. Ogilvy looked at maps that had been highlighted with the locations of recent Federal activity and applied a filter for gang infighting. The infighting appeared to spread from the first case instead of randomly occurring in different areas. This lead Ogilvy to suspect that these cases are not random and that something is causing them. Clearly, these aren't just random arguments that are causing firefights to burst. Ogilvy held a button on his phone down while asking for Aahmiah to come to his office.

Upon Aahmiah's appearance through the doorway, Ogilvy gestured him over with his hand. Aahmiah took a look at the screen and studied the map and the highlights. "What does it mean?" he asked.

"These circles are the locations of recent gang deaths," Ogilvy explained. "Do you notice how there is almost no variation in the placements?" Aahmiah nodded. "We sent, so far, two scout groups to gather any information that can from these fights. These red circles are the last known locations we could track them to." Ogilvy tapped on the keyboard twice and clicked the mouse. Two red circles appeared almost directly over one of the areas with the most gang deaths. Aahmiah remained silent as he tried to draw links between the positions of the circles. "Now what I reckon is going on," Ogilvy began, "is that something is causing the gangs to fight amongst themselves leaving no survivors, and then waits for the scouts to arrive before doing the same to them. I'll send my findings to the Commander and let him take this into account. These are definitely co-ordinated attacks." Ogilvy opened his main window in order to open his emails but found that the background has changed to a heart shape made of numbers with the words 'Oggy and Roxxy' inside. Aahmiah got up and left almost instantly, leaving behind an annoyed-as-usual Ogilvy with his palm over his face. Ogilvy will never understand how the best tracker in New Eden could be so immature, and hates her for it.

With the data sent off and no calls to action from Aahmiah, Ogilvy took the rest of the night off. He said his goodbyes to Aahmiah and drove to his home. The wooden interior was almost a museum exhibit of Dark Ages architecture. He had his much-loved leather couch, a 60" holographic television complete with a black square behind it to stop the wooden wall from interfering with the colouration of the screen. The floors were the same wood as the walls. His kitchen supplied only the essentials; pots and pans, fridge, microwave, oven, dishwasher, stereo, phone and none of that decorative crap he saw no need for. The tabletops were a black stony-patterned limestone. The kitchen sat to the right of the lounge room, perpendicular to the stairs that lead up to the bathroom, his bedroom and the guest room. Each room had windows that displayed the buildings that surrounded his house and let barely any solar light in. His front yard was mowed occasionally, but otherwise had nothing attention-grasping, just grass and bushes that lined the fences to the left and right. It was a modest home for a highly payed Federal sergeant, but supplied the necessities and a little bit more, and that's all Ogilvy would ask for.

The evening passed peacefully and Ogilvy was fully rested and ready to get back to work. After his breakfast and morning television, he got into his SpecFor suit and left for the Federal HQ. Upon his arrival, he saw Pilkins standing outside the door, his uniform almost silhouetted by the lights inside the building, clipboard and pen in hand as per usual. Pilkins was never one to call someone to his office when he had something important to say. "No need to sign in at your office," he told Ogilvy. "The commander has asked me to make sure you do not delay and attend his office immediately." Ogilvy nodded and marched through the doorway. Aahmiah's door was closed with his "out" sign hung over the keypad next to it, so Ogilvy knew not to knock and say his good mornings.

Once he reached the Commander's office, he saw Aahmiah already standing to the left and Ilupen standing behind his desk, hands behind his back. Ilupen nodded towards the door and Ogilvy slammed on the close button with the side of his fist. "Don't slam my buttons, will ya?" Ilupen beamed. "Our maintenance men are off-world for their grading and I don't want to be locked in my own office." Ogilvy remained silent, standing straight. "Now, to the matter at hand. Sergeant Ogilvy was able to cross-reference two sets of data concerning our scouts and bandit deaths. I brought the data to the meeting and I was able to get the other Commanders on our side with this one. We now have permission to send investigators off-world."

"Why would we need to leave New Eden?" asked Aahmiah.

"One of the Commanders at the meeting specialised in cybermancy and took his own look at our data," Ilupen explained. "He detected interference in the areas surrounding the locations of the deaths, more intense around more recent deaths. This could simply be implants draining their own energy before shutting down, but the interference could only be detected on a certain frequency." Ilupen removed a black cube from his hip compartment and tapped on it a few times before setting it down on the table. A hologram of a spaceship appeared with very strong golden colouring. "This is a Secreta squad transport ship that was found orbiting around just outside of New Eden's atmosphere. Thermal scans found no traces of life and no traces of machine activity. Cyber scans, on the other hand, found interference on the same frequency as the interference surrounding the bodies. The ship was absolutely teeming with the stuff. This is where you two, plus two additional allies will be deployed to this ship to investigate. Now, the Secreta are known for being secretive – it's basically their name – so this ship could be a trap. All four of you have remarkable combat records so I believe it wouldn't be an issue should it be true."

"Who are our helpers?" asked Ogilvy. Out of the darkness of the corners, a man in a fully black and red armoured suit steps out and into the light of the hologram. His armour was blood-red with black binding around the edges of each plate. His helmet was similar to Culter headgear in that it resembled a knight from the Dark Ages, but instead has three midnight-blue lights where the visor should be. The lights were placed like corners of a triangle, indicating that the man in the suit was Orus and needed somewhere for his third eye to see out of. Around his waist was a tight, black utility belt that holstered a modified .222, three grenades on his right and a large, bright green syringe with a plastic lid on the needle was stored horizontally across his belt buckle, which was a golden Federation insignia. His hands remained behind his back and he stood with a proud posture.

"Meet Carpenter," said Ilupen. "He's a combat technician who will help get you anywhere you need to be on that ship." Carpenter raised his right hand in front and waved to the duo. "He was assigned to us by the Equator HQ. He came a long way to be here so you've got even more of a reason not to let this fail. He is very well equipped and received training only slightly outmatched by yours. He will prove to be a valuable asset to this mission."

Carpenter approached Ogilvy and held his hand out. Ogilvy took him up on the offer and shook his hand. "A pleasure to be working with you," Carpenter said, his deep Orus voice complimenting his intimidating appearance. Carpenter moved on and gave Aahmiah a handshake before stepping back next to the Commander.

"I'll finish up with bringing Carpenter up to speed," said Ilupen. "You two are to gather your things and be ready for space travel in half an hour. Dismissed."

"Who is our fourth partner?" asked Aahmiah.

"You'll meet them before you depart. Now go get ready." Ogilvy and Aahmiah saluted the Commander and forwarded out of his office. The pair grabbed the same equipment as the previous mission and met on the roof of the HQ, where the transport will be located and ready for departure. The Commander shortly arrived with Carpenter close behind him. Commander Ilupen stood next to the shuttle opening where the doors slowly retracted open. Carpenter entered the shuttle after saluting the Commander. Ogilvy and Aahmiah followed him shortly after. As the doors closed again, the Commander saluted the men on board. Carpenter took his seat in the cockpit and engaged all the engines. Aahmiah took his seat next to him whilst Ogilvy took a look around. He opened the only other door on the shuttle, and discovered the fourth partner.

_-{Carpenter Bridley: Monologue File #00005}_

_TIMESTAMP: 05/02/00015_

_Training update. My last task was a success. I am now ready to join forces with Central New Eden HQ to assist with an investigation they are carrying out. All equipment has arrived. I have learnt how to use each and every individual weapon and tool I will have at my disposal. End monologue._

_{End Holonote}-_


	7. Empty

"Hello, partner," said La Roux. She was lying on the top bunk of a bunk bed, opposite an armoury unit. The bunk bed was very simple in design; a collection of thin, steel beams supported the rather thin looking mattresses. No pillows, no blankets. The bare minimum for space flight. This particular ship is built for travelling short distances quickly so if you had enough time to sleep, you were doing so temporarily.

"And how might you be helping on this mission?" asked Ogilvy.

"I'm the one who the techie lets on first and scouts the joint for enemies," La Roux states. "Of course, I could kill everyone on the ship quickly and quietly, but then that makes you useless and I know how you absolutely must be part of the action so…"

"Right," Ogilvy says. Having spent as little time as necessary to meet the fourth ally, Ogilvy left the room and returned to the cockpit with the others. The shield that surrounded the ship was patterned with random orange polygons, almost like shattered glass. Every once in a while, the shield generators would send a surge through the shields and the pattern would brighten up into visibility all across the cockpit window. The control panel in front of Carpenter was lit the same colour as the shield by all the buttons. Each button and knob projected its name as a hologram when Carpenter's hands got close enough to them. The ship was an interceptor, and included a laser-drill system that would allow the ship to drill into larger shuttles and enter without setting off many alarms or producing a lot of noise that would alert anyone lingering around the point of entry. Ships of this kind were known as "Injectors" among Federal pilots, as they were made en masse and were meant to be deployed in large groups, entering enemy ships from multiple locations and deploying infantry rapidly. When deployed alone, however, was perfect for stealthy entrances to space stations or any large off-world structures.

Ogilvy sat on the seat against the wall nearest Aahmiah and looked out the window while the shuttle ascended through the atmosphere. "Did you found out who the other squad mate is?" asked Aahmiah.

"It's La Roux," replied Ogilvy. Aahmiah gave a light chuckle.

"Did you know that's not her real name?" said Aahmiah. "I only just found out when I was speaking to the Commander earlier today. I'd only heard anyone else refer to her as that."

"So you know she was coming with us?"

"Yeah. I thought you'd enjoy finding out on your own."

"I'm gonna slap you one of these days." Aahmiah laughed again and face forward. The ship was almost in space. The artificial gravity was so lifelike that Ogilvy would not have known that the ship was moving in the first place had he not looked out a window. Ten minutes of silence, besides the sound of the engines running and the occasional zap of the shield surging, and the shuttle was in space. Carpenter brought up a screen on the front screen and hammered his fingers on a few buttons. He got up from his chair and faced his crewmates.

"I am going to be in the utility room fine tuning my tools," he said. "Autopilot has taken over flight controls. I will return when we have reached our destination."

"Ciao," said Aahmiah nonchalantly while giving Carpenter a small wave. He disappeared behind the automatic doors, leaving Ogilvy and Aahmiah alone with each other. The screen said that an estimated time of arrival was approximately a little over one hour. Maybe five minutes and, as mature as the Federal agents wanted to be, they both were overcome with boredom. Aahmiah turned his seat around to face Ogilvy while doing a stereotypical evil genius hand gesture. "What's with you and La Roux anyway?" he asked. "You never give me the whole story and as far as asking Pilkins went, all he did was tell me he thinks she likes you."

"We've got an hour to kill, so I'll talk," said Ogilvy. "During her first assignment to New Eden HQ, she needed someone to show her around. Commander made me in charge of her for the day. I showed her all the rooms in the building, introduced her to Pilkins and I wanted to introduce her to you but you were dispatched at the time. Ever since then, she's made sure to say hello every time she's in the building. How it got to being annoying, I'll never know."

"You didn't mention what happened after the tour," said a feminine voice from the darkness. La Roux uncloaked herself and faded into view. She was sitting between the duo the whole time, legs crossed with her back straight. "You were at Neoncohol slamming down shots of Derezin when you spotted me off-duty. You didn't recognise me without my tracker gear on and asked to buy me a drink." Aahmiah started giving Ogilvy strange looks. He swore that Ogilvy could not stomach Derezin. "I took you up on the offer and told you that I'll see you the next day. The next day, I hear you talking about 'the girl you bought a drink' and how pretty she was and that 'you wouldn't mind storing your shotgun on a rack like that'." At this point, Ogilvy had his hand over his eyes in embarrassment. "Now that I know you aren't all serious business like you acted during the tour, I've been playful around you."

"What a touching story," Aahmiah said in a teasing voice. "Smooth Oggy strikes again."

"Shut up," snapped Ogilvy. This made the others laugh.

"Relax," said La Roux. "We're all friends here."

"Yeah, 'Gilvy," agreed Aahmiah. "You've been less fun since that Archie fella from the beginning of the investigation."

"Because this is a serious investigation," replied Ogilvy. "We're treading on Secreta ordeals and I'd rather not be fighting a bunch of swordsmen with guns who get back up from being shot in the head."

"So they're a little harder to kill," said Aahmiah, "Big deal. Just use a Depezador and the wall piercing pellets will get through their armour and do irreversible damage."

"Better yet," La Roux spoke out, "use your blade to hit the small, unprotected spots of their armour and watch them bleed too heavily to function."

"No way," exclaimed Ogilvy. "Secreta are known for wielding katanas or whatever swords they can get their hands on. They'll slaughter me if I get within arm's reach."

"He's got a point there," says Aahmiah. He looks at La Roux. "We all know you've never even seen a Secreta agent. Ogilvy here has killed not just a Secreta soldier, but a Secreta agent in the E.Y.E division. If the Federation actually comprehended how big of a deal E.Y.E agents are, he'd be the commanding one here."

"Instead the bastard's armour self-destructed and I couldn't confirm the kill," said Ogilvy in a disheartened tone.

"Whatever," said La Roux. "You two can sit here and enjoy the big black nothing that is space and I'll go listen to music."

"What music?" asked Aahmiah.

"My headgear comes with a music player. Bye now." She got up and went back to the private quarters. The duo looked at each other.

"…Her armour comes with a music player?" asked Aahmiah in a confused tone.

"Why can't we have nice things like that?" replied Ogilvy. The pair faced the window in front of them. Forty minutes until arrival, the screen says. Times passes slowly but eventually the ship is almost ready to fire up the laser drills. Carpenter reappears and takes his seat once again. The two claws sticking out from the sides of the shuttle begin to rotate, gaining speed exponentially. Eventually the claws light up bright blue and almost appear still. Carpenter reduces the ships speed and slowly enters through one of the afterburners, insuring a more difficult getaway should the Secreta vessel decide to make a break for it. The drills make very short work of the afterburners and the shuttle has drilled through in no time.

The interior of vessel is very colourful. Back-up lights are dim but enough to light up the room. The walls are plates of silver with golden etchings of dragons and other mythical creatures lining the support beams and the corners of the rooms. The room the Injector drilled into appears to be the engine room. The engines are silent and still; inactive. The doors to the shuttle open and the squad piles out. La Roux busts open a nearby ventilation shaft and slithers away. The three remaining investigate the room a little bit. The inactive engines are cold to the touch. They have not been functioning in a very long time. Aahmiah readies his 444K and Ogilvy follows suit; he removes his Depezador from his back plate holster and pulls back the foregrip to check the chamber. When he sees the chamber is empty, he pulls the foregrip further and chambers a shell. Carpenter approaches the door that leads out of the engine room. No power means the door needs something to pry it open. A metal rod with a hook at the end extends from his right wrist guard. He inserts the hook just underneath the door and rotates his arm so his hand reaches upwards. His arm clicks into place and he slowly slides the door up and out of the way. Once the door is high enough to lift without a hook, he pulls his arm away and the metal rod flips into its original position and retracts. The door leads to a hallway of sorts. There were two doors on the left and right walls and one at the end. On the floor laid a Culter helmet, a crude hole dead in the centre of the forehead.

The doors along the walls had power running to them so the three could split up and search each one. Ogilvy took the one on the immediate left, Aahmiah the one on the immediate right and Carpenter the furthest left door. Ogilvy opened the door, Depezador ready, but only found a clean and empty room with a bed, armoury unit and a shower. Aahmiah found much of the same in his room. Carpenter also came up short. He turned around and checked the door opposite him. All rooms were clean and devoid of anything besides the furniture. It was like the rooms were vacant the whole time the vessel was in use. As the three regrouped around the final door, Carpenter ordered the others to stand still with a hand signal. He looked at his right wrist for a few seconds and then showed it to the duo. There was a patch of heat in the area ahead, in the shape of someone lying down against the wall. Ogilvy and Aahmiah quickly positioned themselves next to the door, ready to breach. Carpenter opened the door and they all ran in, weapons out. The walls that surrounded them were covered in blood, the cockpit had dead bodies in each of the seats and bullet casings were scattered all over the floor.

The source of the heat was a Culter soldier, lying on the floor, his head resting on the wall. He looked up at the intruders and did not react. He simply sat there, staring. There was a hole in his helmet on his forehead; bloody, torn flesh exposed. Ogilvy got closer, aiming his Depezador at the soldier. As he got closer, the soldier began to reach out to him. He eventually began making small groans. From the state of the soldier's helmet and his behaviour, Ogilvy concluded that he had been shot in the head and his resurrector activated. His brain was in a condition only good enough that he could be reanimated, but with severe brain damage. So severe, the soldier had no control in the lower half of his body. Resurrectors are such horrid things, thought Ogilvy. He put his shotgun on the floor next to him and loaded his Motra. He shot the half-alive soldier through the heart, the silent shot putting him to rest. Unknown to Ogilvy, Aahmiah was behind him the whole time, visibly upset by what he saw. Secreta or not, no one deserves pain like that.

"That explains the heat source," said Carpenter. "No other unidentified signs of life detected on the ship. My scanners detect cyber activity upstairs. You two should investigate the bodies for evidence and I will investigate the activity upstairs. If I do not return in five minutes, seek me." Carpenter disappeared up the stairs to the left of the hallway entrance whilst Ogilvy and Aahmiah remained on the flight deck. Ogilvy checked the left body in the cockpit and Aahmiah checked the other one. So far, every dead body on the ship sustained a shot to the forehead in the exact same location. Whoever was responsible for these murders had immaculate accuracy. Judging from the positions of the bodies and the way the heads are angled, the pilot on the left was shot in the back of the head. The second pilot turned to face the gunshot but was shot just above the eyes before he could react.

Ogilvy heard a beeping coming from inside his helmet. He tapped on the right side of his head. "What do you need, Carpenter?" he asked.

"Come upstairs," Carpenter ordered. "You need to see this." Ogilvy looked at Aahmiah and nodded towards the stairway up. Upon reaching Carpenter, the duo saw him kneeling over another dead Culter. Unlike the rest of the bodies on the ship, this one had not been shot in the forehead, but the right temple. It was clearly suicide. "I inspected his weapon. It is a .222 revolver. The rounds match the hole in his head and the dearly departed over there." He pointed towards another body with a hole in the forehead.

"Everybody on the ship has been shot in the forehead except this one," said Ogilvy. "Maybe this guy had a little rampage before shooting himself in the head."

"Four kills, one suicide," continued Carpenter. "That would require five shots. Five shots are all the revolver can hold. He has spare ammo in his right leg compartment. He did not miss a single shot."

"That's cool," said Aahmiah. "Ogilvy and I will be searching the rest of this place for clues. You do what you need up here." Carpenter saluted before getting back to work. The duo went back downstairs and looked around. There were no signs of resistance from any of the bodies, almost like the killer very quickly shot and killed all four of his crewmates before shooting himself. A few minutes of investigation and Ogilvy was receiving another message.

"What's up?" he asked.

"Come upstairs," said La Roux. "Carpenter is having a fit and I don't want to get hit." Ogilvy lowered his hand from his helmet to his weapon and gestured at Aahmiah to follow. They could both hear the sound of metallic clicking as they ascended the stairs. What they saw when they arrived was very strange. Carpenter was holding his BK and was trying to fire into the vent on the wall. The gun was empty. He didn't react to Ogilvy and Aahmiah's appearance and was fully focused on firing his empty gun into the vent, where Ogilvy assumed La Roux was hiding.

"You alright, Carpenter?" asked Aahmiah. Carpenter's focus attention remained unbroken, his finger still pulling the trigger every second. Ogilvy slowly snuck closer to Carpenter to see if he could snap him out of his trance. When Ogilvy got just out of Carpenter's reach, Carpenter, in a very quick motion, looked right into his eyes and aimed his Bk towards his forehead, still pulling the trigger at a regular interval. There was clearly something wrong with him.

"We're bugging out," exclaimed Ogilvy. "Aahmiah, grab Carpenter and drag him back onto the ship. La Roux, quit screwing around in the vents and meet me at the ship." La Roux poked her head out of the vent and saluted before silently disappearing back in. Aahmiah approached Carpenter, who then started aiming at him. He grabbed Carpenter by the hand and dragged him with him, Carpenter's legs doing the bare minimum to keep him standing. Ogilvy looked at the body Carpenter was scanning. It must have some sort of special properties if it could make a highly trained technician like Carpenter act the way he is. Ogilvy grabbed the body and slung it over his shoulder. He followed Aahmiah close behind, observing the surroundings he was leaving behind. Dead bodies, walls splattered in blood, empty and unused private quarters, everything was wrong with this ship. Hopefully the Culter's ally group, the Jians, lived in better conditions.

_-{Ogilvy Minorum: Monologue File #00033}_

_TIMESTAMP: 27/12/0014_

_I'm on a cruise back home. We didn't find any living witnesses but with Carpenter acting the way he is, we definitely found something. We were down one pilot, but lucky for us, Aahmiah knew how to activate a return trip function on the pilot's dashboard. I won't spoil a lot here just in case someone irrelevant to the mission gets in my files, but the Commander will most likely announce the findings to everyone anyway._

_i love roxie she is so hot and perfect_

_{End Holonote}-_


	8. Mindless Killing Machines

The body fetched from the ship slammed against Commander Ilupen's desk, the sound of heavy metal echoed with a 'krang'. "I asked for evidence," said Ilupen, "not trophies. Why is there a Culter sprawled across my workspace?"

"Because when a squad mate inspects a body," replies Ogilvy, "and tries to murder their friends with an empty gun, there's got to be something up." Ogilvy flips the body onto its back, revealing the wound on the side of the head. "If it's dead, it shouldn't be able to do anything so I'm thinking a hacktrap of some sort. I think the doctors at the cyber warfare department should take a look at this one."

"I'll send in a request. What do you mean by squad mate? Where's Carpenter?"

"Right here," said Aahmiah as he lugged a still malfunctioning Carpenter with him. He stood him back up and slowly nudged him towards the Commander. As soon as he was in range, Carpenter swung around from Aahmiah to Commander Ilupen, giving him a fright.

"Carpenter, can you hear me?" asked Ilupen. He tried to push the gun away from his face but Carpenter was persistent. He then tried to remove the gun from his hand, but found it easier said than done. Skipping straight to the last resort, Ilupen slapped him across the face. There was no visible reaction from Carpenter, his finger still pulling away at the trigger.

"Carpenter is in another world right now, sir," explained La Roux. "I don't think he'd have any control over his body right now."

"Clearly," replied Ilupen. "I'm sending him home where he belongs. Hopefully whatever is happening here goes away with time. Until then, you three are dismissed until we receive results from the body. In unison, the squad saluted the Commander and forwarded out in a single file line. Shortly before they all disappeared, Ilupen called out. "Belle, I need to have a word with you regarding our monologue system." La Roux froze up and turned around slowly. As the door shut behind them, Ilupen continued. "Tell me why you've been accessing O-" Ogilvy got the funny idea it was about him. If La Roux is involved, it's bound to be about him. He and Aahmiah resumed their patrols for the rest of the evening and thought they would have a nice quiet week ahead of them before they heard about the case any further – cyber warfare investigations are typically slow.

The very next day, Ilupen called Ogilvy into his office. "Sergeant Ogilvy," greeted Ilupen, "I know I've had you running around a lot the past few week – and if anyone deserves a rest, it's you and Sergeant-commander Aahmiah, but I'm sending you off world again."

"Where to this time, sir?" asked Ogilvy.

"You're heading off to one of our orbital forensic science labs, Omar-15. The scientists need to interview you about the mission that put Carpenter in this state. His supervisor alerted us that he hasn't moved since we had him placed back at home so he was also sent to the science labs. You'll be catching a lift with one of our pilots, and very soon too. Kit yourself up with mandatory side-arms and be ready to leave in ten minutes." Ogilvy saluted and marched off to his office. Although he wouldn't show it to the Commander, Ogilvy was peeved that he had to cancel his plans for the day.

Upon reaching the Launchpad on the top floor, Ogilvy shook hands with the pilot. "Sergeant Ogilvy, Major Krestel, at your service," announced the pilot. The pilot was dressed in Federal pilot attire; a red jumpsuit with silver plates across the shins, calves, forearms, biceps, chest, stomach and back. The helmet was also silver, with three visors suited for Orus infantry, although this did not mean the pilot himself was an Orus. The mouthguard had black tubes connecting to the pack on his back; an oxygen supply for when the cockpit depressurises to stop his eardrums from rupturing during ascension.

"We'll leave immediately, Major," commanded Ogilvy. "When we arrive at the orbital, take some time for yourself. I'll contact you when I'm ready to leave again."

"That's what I like to hear, sir," agreed Krestel. The ship was the same model as the one Ogilvy rode to the Culter vessel, an Injector ship. Ogilvy sat down on the seat behind the cockpit and buckled himself in, ready for the trip. Shortly before Krestel fired up the engines, Ogilvy's receiver crackled before a familiar voice began talking. "Can you hear me, sir?" asked Krestel through the communicator.

"Only just, Major," confirmed Ogilvy. "The signal is a little weak."

"Yeah," replied Krestel. "I encrypted the signal because I could detect someone listening in on our ship. No biggie now, it's just us talking for the trip."

"I didn't think we'd be talking this trip at all."

"Well, y'know, I thought we might chat while we fly. Omar is the furthest orbital out so the trip may take a couple."

"A couple of what?"

"Hours."

"Are you serious, Major? I just got back from a return trip that took almost a New Eden day."

"Then I suppose I better start flying now then." Krestel jumpstarted the engines and the ship rocketed off. It didn't take long for the pilot to begin the conversation again. "Talking is considered the best way to speed up time by soldiers who are frequently transported large distances."

"Yeah?" Ogilvy replied.

"Yep, I've had the honour of transporting hundreds of troopers. You could say I've seen every part of the galaxy too."

"So you're a well-travelled man. I suppose that's what you'd expect from a pilot."

"Of course. If I never picked this position, I'd have never left my home planet."

"Where you born a civvie?"

"No, I was born a Fed. Anyone who was born on Old Earth was instantly put into the military. I can't complain though, whole future being sorted out for me and whatnot."

"You didn't feel controlled or anything?"

"No way, I got everything I wanted in the program. I was in a happy family, went to a decent school, had plenty of spare time and best of all, had a very well-paying job on offer the minute I turned 18. There was and is nothing worth complaining about!" said Krestel with enthusiasm.

"You don't feel like life could've been different if you were born somewhere else?"

"Of course it would've been different, but the fact is I was born on Old Earth and that's just how the cookie crumbles."

"I'm surprised the planet is still holding together."

"Well, the Sun hasn't exactly run out of gas yet so it's still got some time ahead of it."

"That is true," agreed Ogilvy. The conversation went on and on as the ship flew further and further into the atmosphere. Soon, space was in clear view and the ship was no longer within the atmosphere. Omar-15 was still ages away, so the conversation continued. Krestel asked Ogilvy about his current investigation, but Ogilvy wouldn't say. "If you get captured and you know anything about the case, the perp could discover us hot on their trail and we'll be back to square one if we're lucky."

"And if you're unlucky?" asked Krestel.

"The Secreta will get amongst it," explained Ogilvy, "and god knows we need swordsmen who get up from mortal injuries screwing with us."

"If the Secreta are involved, you're dealing with a complicated case."

"I was hoping that wasn't the case, but after Carpenter, anything is possible."

"… Who's Carpenter?" Ogilvy realised that he's letting his mission slip.

"Oh, uh, a cousin of mine."

"What, they get him or something?"

"Yeah. Evil, evil people."

"Hang on, busy now," said Krestel in a hurried voice. The Omar-15 was now in full view, and Krestel was seeking permission to land. All the ship's details have been cleared up and they were approved for landing. The ship slowly passed through a red field that surrounded the entire orbital station, and the sound of oxygen entering the ship echoed through the cockpit. Krestel removed his helmet, as did Ogilvy, almost in unison. As the ship touched down, Ogilvy looked out the window and saw the orbital landing pad. The pad was almost 5 kilometres squared, and was made out of clean, pristine flat cement. The occasional slots for special kinds of ships were scattered across the landing pad. At the end of the pad, the entrance into the station was visible. The walls were black and had red lining across the edges and machines fitted on the walls, fitting the Federal colour scheme effectively. Across the pad, there were hundreds of Federal soldiers and civilians entering and exiting ships, mingling with one another and otherwise just busying the pad. One would think landing would be difficult, but almost every ship coming or going found a safe way to do so.

"There's an awful lot of traffic for a private orbital," said Ogilvy to Krestel, as he stepped out of the pilot entry.

"This ain't private, ya goose," replied Krestel. "This is just a commercial station controlled by the Federation. People are allowed in and out as long as they swear peace, as violence will just lead to the Federal police coming in and ending it quickly, be it with more violence or detainment."

"Sounds strict."

"Yeah, but you'd be surprised how little action the police get. Bandits don't usually make it past the forcefield you saw us slip through and the Secreta are too busy being publicly secret to go on the offensive. Even if they did, this place wouldn't be a target; this orbital is tiny compared to what the Federation have built everywhere else. That being said, I'm taking my leave now as I've got someone I want to see before we ship off again. Take it easy now and call me when you're ready to fly home." Krestel raised his hand in salutation as he finished speaking.

"Will do. I'll take my time." Ogilvy saluted back before wandering towards the entrance. Upon reaching the checkpoint, Ogilvy raised his right hand, and his ID was projected from his forearm guard. The Federal guard at the checkpoint asked him to wait while he fetched details sent in from Ilupen. The guard shuffled around his desk before handing over a Holonote with locations and personnel. Ogilvy saluted and continued on his way before reading the note. He found himself a bench to sit at not far from the entrance and looked through the note. Ilupen left him with the duty of overseeing the investigation of Carpenter and his current state. He was to report to the Omar-15 medical complex and investigate both the body he delivered to Ilupen and Carpenter. If the events of the Culter vessel were somehow related to the murder-suicides on New Eden, then now was the time to find out.

Ogilvy rose from his seat and began to look around for directions to the medical complex. The sound of his boots slapping against the cement with each step was drowned out by the noise of a thriving and bustling urban community. If he didn't know any better, Ogilvy would have thought he wasn't on a Federation-controlled space station. He could look up and see a lime green virtual sky reminiscent of the polluted atmosphere of New Eden past the high-rises and tall, cluttered buildings that lined the paths. Not a single car was driving on the floor nor flying above the masses. Everywhere he looked, people were exiting and entering buildings, chatting amongst themselves or otherwise just trying to get by. The space station was peaceful. Ogilvy quickly regained his focus on the job and continued walking. After nudging his way through a couple of clusters of civilians and having to turn himself around multiple times, Ogilvy finally found the complex.

The entrance was a rather large slate grey door with a red holographic sign above it saying "FEDERAL MEDICAL: OPEN". Upon approaching the door, multiple blue scanning lights covered Ogilvy's body before an affirming beep was heard. The door slid open rather quickly for its size. I suppose you'd need big doors when Federal soldiers are sent in bulk, thought Ogilvy. On the inside were two Federal guards in medium armour standing opposite sides of the door, and a big desk with a receptionist behind it. The receptionist wore light armour and a helmet that hid his face. He looked up as Ogilvy walked towards the desk. "Sergeant Ogilvy, your reputation precedes you," said the receptionist. "Ilupen made it clear to me that you must visit ward 23-E. You can find it in the left wing." He lifted his left hand and gestured towards the hallway to his left. Ogilvy saluted and began walking down the hallway. As he walked past each door, he scanned the signs. '01-A, 02-A, 03-A…' He reached the end of the hallway and walked up the staircase. The stairs lead to the different levels of the wing, and he entered the E level.

23 doors down and Ogilvy reached his destination. He placed his wrist against the control panel beside the door and was immediately granted access. Inside was a man wearing a black Federal doctor's outfit. He was sitting at a desk next to another door. Opposite him was a leather couch. This must have been the waiting room, thought Ogilvy. The doctor looked up at him. "You must be the agent from New Eden," he said with a hoarse voice.

"Sergeant," corrected Ogilvy.

"Whatever," said the doctor. "Right this way, if you will." The doctor got up and opened the door. Behind the door was a room that appeared too large to be stuck in with the rest of the ward. The room was empty, save for two doors to the left and right and a massive glass screen that covered the wall opposite the entrance. Ogilvy peeked through the glass and saw two familiar sights: the body he took from the vessel and Carpenter. The body was laying on a slate table below a light whilst Carpenter was still standing up straight, unmoving. Upon closer inspection, Ogilvy noticed something different about Carpenter.

"Where's his right hand?" asked Ogilvy.

"We had to cut it off," said the doctor. "We can't get a closer inspection if my nurses are too nervous around a man holding a gun and he wasn't going to let go of it any time soon. It was the only option."

"Does that mean he won't be in action again anytime soon?" Ogilvy asked.

"Carpenter won't be in any action at all ever, really," stated the doctor matter-of-factly.

"Why?"

"Carpenter is fully aware of his actions, but has no control over his bodily movements," explained the doctor. "He is currently infected with a virus that assumed complete control of his skeleton through his implants. The virus does not allow him any movement of his own accord and has only one goal in mind; kill everyone. It targets anyone in the vicinity instantly and, with the infected's body, very quickly aims for the head and fires. Luckily, Carpenter only got the minority of the virus in his system. Had he got the majority, we'd be in mortal danger just standing in this very room."

"There's more to the virus?"

"Yes. The body you kindly supplied alongside Carpenter has an instance of the virus – the full thing. Scanning the virus shows that it also contains data with instructions on reloading, changing weapons and melee combat."

"So what you're saying is that there is a virus going around that turns people into mindless killing machines with perfect accuracy and instant reaction times?"

"It would appear so."

_-{Igor Bilinsky: Monologue File #44329}_

_TIMESTAMP: 07/02/0015_

_I've received a body and a victim from the New Eden Federal HQ this morning. I had a white-hat cybermancer scan the body and shortly after, he went blooming mad! He froze up and kept telling me to get away. I hesitated before marching towards the door, and as it closed behind me, he started shooting! He must have emptied hundreds of bullets into the door right behind me! After a while he stopped shooting and I could finally hear again. I zipped up to my office where it was safe and saw him facing the door with his machine gun out. He sat there, waiting for me to come back. After a few minutes he reloaded his gun. Blimey, he's got more ammo. I flooded the room with knock out gas and he remained standing. Not knowing what else I could do, I had an EMP bomb dropped from the ceiling and I watched as he stiffened and fell over. I went back down because I thought it was safe. It was, but I still had a dangerous statue sitting in my workstation. I dragged him into a storage closet and locked him in it. I'll get someone to deal with him tomorrow. I've still much to do._

_{End Holonote}-_


	9. High Bass

A loud crash came from behind Ogilvy and the doctor. Ogilvy turned around to look, but the doctor knocked a table over and dived behind it. Distracted by the doctor's sudden movements, Ogilvy only just noticed the closet door slamming the ground as the infected cybermancer busted his way out. With the dust obscuring his vision, the cybermancer stepped forward, rifle at the ready. Ogilvy rolled towards the doctor behind the table to take cover. He asked the doctor how he knew the cybermancer was coming.

"He was the one who scanned the dead body," he explained, scared for his life. "I was never good at cybermancy so I paid him to do it. I don't know what happened but he got infected and tried to kill me! I used an EMP to disable him and locked him in the closet hoping he wouldn't get out. When I heard that crash I knew he had busted out – he had to eventually."

"Warn me when you hide sleeping killers in your closet," scolded Ogilvy. "But thanks for the tip." He detached an EMP grenade from his armour and threw around the corner, making sure not to expose his head. The grenade activated and surely, the footsteps slowed to a stop. Ogilvy peeked around the corner slowly, cursing his lack of helmet. The cybermancer had fallen flat on his face, his implants no longer in full control of his body. He looked up at Ogilvy before slowly getting back up.

"Thank you for not killing me," he said, "but it won't take long for my implants to recharge."

"Is there any way we can stop it?" asked Ogilvy.

"There is only one way," said the cybermancer. "All implants recharge themselves with the CO2 in my blood. I can hold my breath and delay it, or I can die."

"I'm not going to kill you," said Ogilvy. "The doctor here can remove those implants and you'll be fine, although not half the fighter you are now."

"There is no time," said the cybermancer in an increasingly stern tone, "and thus there is no choice." The cybermancer aimed his rifle to his head and fired. The blood sprayed across the walls, much to the doctor's dismay.

"Do you know how long it's going to take to clean and resterilise my office!?" shouted the doctor.

"A man kills himself in your office," replied Ogilvy, "and you're more upset over the mess he made?"

"Who cares if he killed himself, what if he had some blood borne disease?" argued the doctor. "We could both be fatally ill right now and we wouldn't even know it yet!"

"Oh shut up, you paranoid geek," beamed Ogilvy. "I'm going to help myself to your notes and leave. I've already seen one thousand times more casualties than I was hoping to on this trip." Ogilvy marched towards the doctor's computer and downloaded all the information the doctor had on the body and Carpenter. As he turned to stroll back to the ship, the doctor called out to him.

"What am I supposed to do with Carpenter?" he asked angrily.

"If you're brainy head couldn't tell, he's already dead," said Ogilvy. "You damn well cut his hand off for no good reason so you may as well finish the job, unless you to be a cruel human being and let him slowly starve to death standing completely still. Either way, I'm reporting him dead to the Federation so whatever you do to him now means nothing." As callous as it sounded, the doctor got the message. He looked back at the mess in his office whilst Ogilvy exited the room.

Ogilvy held his fingers on the communicator fastened to the neck of his armour. "Krestel," he said, "we're done here. I'll be at the ship in five."

"Alrighty then," replied Krestel. It didn't take Ogilvy long before he arrived at the ship, with Krestel standing beside the cockpit ready as ever. As the ship began to take off, Krestel looked over his shoulder back at Ogilvy. "I heard the ruckus you made in the hospital. Had a bit of a tussle did ya?"

"The doctor was a dickhead," said Ogilvy. "He kept a Federal agent locked in an airtight room and did the bare minimum to keep him alive. Of course, the doctor also kept it from me that he had a dangerous man locked in a weak cupboard."

"Dangerous man?"

"The thing that got to Carpenter also got to another guy who went berserk and tried to kill the doctor. The doc disabled him with an EMP and hid him in a closet. When he broke out, I stopped his implants with another EMP before he shot himself in the head."

"Why were the implants relevant?"

"Because the virus in the body Carpenter scanned seizes full control of the victim's implants and then kills anybody in sight with extreme accuracy and reflexes. Carpenter caught it when he scanned the body and luckily his gun wasn't loaded so he was harmless. The cybermancy in the doctor's office scanned the body as well and caught it. He, on the other hand, had a loaded rifle."

"Well, I'm glad you found your way out of that one," said Krestel. "I don't know how your Commander would've felt having his number one shot in the head by a zombie."

"He wasn't a zombie, just the effect of someone's cause." The grim statement by Ogilvy announced the end of the conversation. The rest of the trip remained silent, mainly because Ogilvy was collecting his thoughts about the whole situation and Krestel had run out of things to talk about. He always said the hardest part about being a pilot was maintaining conversation.

Upon re-entering New Eden's puke green, turbid atmosphere, Ogilvy exhaled with relief but had a feeling deep inside that the next few weeks or so were going to be complicated. He finally knew what was happening to the looters, the Federal scouts, to Carpenter. The ship landed and snapped Ogilvy back to reality. The ship depressurised and he rose from his seat whilst removing his helmet. Ogilvy looked at Krestel. Krestel turned his head and saw Ogilvy. He signalled Ogilvy to move on without him. "I'll stay here and run maintenance for a while," he said. "You'd better be off to Ilupen." Ogilvy nodded and exited the ship. He stumbled a little, still adjusting from one artificial gravity system to another.

"Reports?" asked Commander Ilupen as Ogilvy entered his office.

"All here," said Ogilvy. "Things are definitely far from over, but at least we know what happened to the bandits and scout parties."

"Do we now?"

"I witnessed it first-hand, yes."

"Out with it, then."

"A virus gets into the cyberbrain of any individual who explores the cyberbrain of a deceased body that has the virus," begins Ogilvy. "The virus then seizes full control of the skeletal implants and leaves the victim powerless to control themselves. The virus uses whatever is on the victim's person to kill anybody it can see. Whether or not this means anybody or a specific demographic I'm not too sure about yet. The virus has its own extra-sensory upgrades that it automatically and instantaneously applies to the victim's software and targets vital points with instant and lethal precision, making any weapon at all capable of killing quickly. I believe that neutralising an affected individual is to simply disarm them, but the doctor at Omar-15 said that there are traces of code in the virus that causes the affected to use an advanced form of hand-to-hand combat should a firearm not be available, but we can't be sure that the code is not completed and implemented in other instances of the virus."

"So you're telling me that you came up against a man with lethal and instant precision and still came out unscathed?" said Ilupen. "Now you're just bragging."

"The doctor witnessed the whole event. Bring him in for questioning and he can confirm my story."

"Later. Right now, just send me what you have and go rest for a while. You've done a lot for the Federation stationed on New Eden these past couple of weeks and you deserve some down time."

"Thank you, sir." Ogilvy saluted, Ilupen returned the gesture. Ogilvy walked outside the office and as soon as the door closed behind him, he leaned forward with his hands on his hips and exhaled deeply. Finally, some relaxation, he thought. He waved to Aahmiah as he walked out, but Aahmiah got out of his seat and hurried over towards him.

"Are you heading out?" asked Aahmiah.

"Yep, I earned myself some me-time," he replied, smiling like he hasn't in weeks.

"And you're going to go out without me?"

"You're on duty."

"Hang on a second." Aahmiah rushed back to his office, slammed his fingers upon the computer, hung up his 444K revolver and returned to Ogilvy. "Not anymore."

"Just like that, eh?"

"Commander Ilupen holds us both in high regards; he won't mind if I took some time off."

"I'll hold you to it," said Ogilvy. "Let's get out of here."

"I know a place I've been meaning to go to for a while. It's a rave joint but I think you'll be fine."

"Oh boy. You're driving then." And with that, the duo got into Ogilvy's car and off they shot. For the extent of the drive, Aahmiah asked Ogilvy questions about the investigation. Ogilvy answered with half-arsed answers, as he was too busy savouring the fact that he wasn't on duty right now. For the time being, he wasn't a Federal agent that survived a gun fight with a man using performance-enhancing viruses, he was just a man who was gearing it up for the night life he could never tire of while riding shotgun with his best friend. It was strange how much he cherished free time, but only one who was in his position could understand what being forced to be ready for combat at any possible moment of the day or night does to you, what sort of stress he constantly bears. Tonight, he could let go of it all, even for as small of a time as one or two nights.

The car stopped in front of a building that flashed a range of colours, but predominantly different shades of purples and blues. The bass could be felt through the car and the floor, but otherwise the music was very silent from outside. The entrance had two large men in black titanium armour that made them seem like robots. Aahmiah and Ogilvy approached the entrance, and were greeted by the bouncers, who had surprisingly calm voices and kind manners. As soon as the duo made it past the doors, the cold air hit them hard and the music exploded in volume, making it feel like they walked through a portal that led from shitty, carcinogenic New Eden to a place where the most alcoholic of drinks were served on tap and verbal communication was not an option.

The music had a slow tempo and every beat was a distorted kick with high bass. Between each kick, a melodic lead played, while every once in a while a feminine, robotic voice sang indecipherable lyrics, presumably in a long forgotten language. The duo didn't mind the music, and could see themselves getting amongst the group and dancing to it. Before they could do that though, they needed booze. They both walked up to the bar and took a seat next to each other. On the bar table was a touchscreen menu that was used to mix personalised drinks. It appears as if the owner of the club made sure everything could be done without talking as there was no way anyone could hear each other over the music. Ogilvy ordered his drink and the bartender came to collect the money. The bartender's face had a nasty snarl on it, thought Ogilvy. Ogilvy turned around on his seat and watched the crowd dance to the music. They all appeared to jump in perfect unison to the beat and were clearly lost in a trance, probably trying to forget all their troubles. Ogilvy turned back around and to his shock, found a rather large pistol pointed at his head.

Ogilvy moved his head out of the way just in time to feel the bullet rub against his temple as it flew past and into the dancing crowd. Before he moved his head back, he reached out for the gun and grabbed it by the sizzling hot barrel. The pain was terrible but he had to disarm this man. With all his strength, he yanked it out of the bartender's hand and into his own. Right after the gun felt comfortable in his hand, the bartender had another at the ready. But this time, Ogilvy had one of his own. He shot the bartender square in the forehead before quickly pulling the pistol close and searching the room for anymore incoming combatants. To his dismay, Ogilvy discovered Aahmiah has gone off on his own. Ogilvy got up and tried to find him as soon as he could, the gun lowered so nobody would see it. He decided to check the male toilets for Aahmiah. He looked inside and found it empty, but then the door slammed behind him and three large men wearing light armour of some sort appeared from the stalls, wielding batons of some sort. "You should have left the Orus to rot," said one of the attackers, "but instead you had to dig yourself a deeper grave."

"Are you talking about Carpenter!?" shouted Ogilvy. The men didn't reply, they just laughed and got ready to attack. Ogilvy quickly shot the one to the left with his gun in the right shoulder. The gun in that claustrophobic environment almost deafened everybody in the room. Ogilvy was able to ignore the ringing in his ears and pushed forward while the men held their ears. He kicked out the right leg of the man in the middle and held the gun to his chin. He shot the gun, sending blood all over the ceiling. He quickly pistol whipped the man on the right, sending him to the floor. He shot the first guy in the chest just to ensure he won't get up from the previous wound and then picked up the third man by the collar.

"Why are you attacking me?" he asked with an angry, gravelly voice.

"If I tell you I'll—" The man is then cut off by something plugging up his throat. Ogilvy became cautious as the man continued to choke. As the man choked, he started to bleed from his mouth, his nose and then finally his mouth. Ogilvy threw him to the floor to keep the blood off him. The man held onto his neck before his head shortly exploded, making a huge mess. Ogilvy stared for a few moments in disgust while what just happened before slowly registered.

The restroom doors slammed open as Ogilvy kicked his way through and marched forward. He turned his head to scan the area and accidentally bumped into someone in front of him. Luckily, this someone was Aahmiah. Ogilvy grabbed him by the shoulder and dragged him into the restroom. "Aahmiah," began Ogilvy, "we should really leave—"

"What the fuck is that smell?" asked Aahmiah, looking towards the male toilets. He immediately wandered in and froze. Ogilvy went with him. "What the bloody hell did you do!?"

"I think there's a hit on us and these men tried to kill me," explained Ogilvy.

"So you decapitated the lot of them?"

"No, their heads exploded."

"Okay, so you shot their heads off. You didn't stop and ask them why we're doing this?"

"Well, yeah, and it went fuckin' amazing as you can see."

"Don't you start swearing at me, mate," said Aahmiah. "What do you mean?"

"I was about to interrogate a guy and then he started choking and bleeding from his face before his head went off like a 'nade."

Aahmiah laughed. "Whoever sent them really wants to stay anonymous. That's some hardcore 'no loose ends' technology we got here."

"Right. Like I said, we need to leave."

The music cut off suddenly and the sound of hundreds of party goers screaming in fear seeped into the room. "God damn it," grunted Aahmiah, "I won't be getting my requested tune anymore will I?"

"You're an idiot," said Ogilvy. "Let's run while everyone's scrambling."

"I'm right behind you," said Aahmiah. Ogilvy lead the way through the rest room doors and immediately dashed for the bar counter, Aahmiah right on his tail. In the middle of the dance floor stood a man with thick, black armour on. On his head was a helmet with a filter over the mouth and three lenses where three eyes would be. His shoulder guards were large, proud looking and his gauntlets were thick, leaving the fingers very little room to wriggle around in. The torso plate was thick and held two pistols to the sides not far down from the armpits. Before Ogilvy could look any more, the hitman opened fire on the bar counter with an automatic shotgun, forcing Ogilvy to duck in cover. The sound of the shotgun dropping and hitting the floor made him believe that the hitman had run out of ammo. He looked back over the counter but very narrowly missed a huge knife flying through the air towards him, shattering a bottle of spirits and sticking into the wall behind it.

"Do you reckon he's one of them?" asked Aahmiah.

"Let's just say he is for now," replied Ogilvy, "and kill him."

"How are we going to do that?"

"Take this gun," Ogilvy said as he handed the pistol over to Aahmiah. "Run to his left while shooting and hopefully you can keep his attention."

"What are you going to do?"

"I'm gonna see if I can preserve that head of his." Aahmiah nodded and spun the pistol around in his hand before dashing out from behind cover. Instantly, the deafening sound of guns firing and bullets flying through the air filled the room. Ogilvy ripped the knife from the wall behind him and kept low to the floor as he snuck out from cover. The hitman quickly turned his head towards Ogilvy but Aahmiah landed a bullet on the back of his head. The bullet deflected off his helmet, but he returned his focus back to him, giving Ogilvy time to get closer. When the hitman was within Ogilvy's reach, the hitman swung his arm around to try and bash Ogilvy away, but again, not focusing on Aahmiah allowed another bullet to hit the helmet; this time the bullet left massive hole in the guard around the hitman's throat, but did not touch his skin. Ogilvy threw his left fist into the hitman's head and with his right hand, swung the knife around and straight into the hitman's windpipe. The knife slid in with very little resistance.

The hitman froze and blood soon coated the entirety of the knife. Ogilvy then pulled the knife around, effectively severing the hitman's neck flesh from his shoulders. Ogilvy pulled the knife back and the hitman fell flat on his face on the floor, blood very quickly covering the floor below him. A sound came from the body, similar to the sound the other men made before their heads exploded. Ogilvy braced for the oncoming explosion, but the head had so little holding it onto the body that the system simply made it pop right from its socket, making a sound similar to a cork being removed from a glass bottle. The duo were huffing from exhaustion when Ogilvy looked at Aahmiah. "We should leave," he said.

"Grab the head," Aahmiah said. "We'll ID the guy and see if we can find any of his affiliations." Ogilvy didn't respond; he just did as Aahmiah said. A bleeding head on his lap, Ogilvy buckled himself into the car and Aahmiah drove off back to the New Eden Federal base.

_-{Ogilvy Minorum: Monologue File #00033}_

_TIMESTAMP: 09/02/0015_

_I'm given my first actual holiday this whole investigation and I get attacked by a couple of rent-a-thugs and a meathead. They all had exploding heads except for the big one, who instead decapitated himself and made a sound so sickening I can still hear it playing back in my head. The perpetrator made a direct attack and went to disgusting lengths to make sure he couldn't be traced, but now it's only a matter of time._

_{End Holonote}-_


	10. Identification

_Author's note:  
>I wrote this fanfiction in order to pass time in highschool. Also, because I fell in love with the E.Y.E universe as soon as I bought it back in 2012. I don't play the game a crazy amount (90 or so hours to date, maybe more in the future) but I love the maps, I love the atmosphere, I love the strange (French?) language that adds that extra sense of otherworldliness. I graduated last year, and had never planned on coming back, but I guess I have to now, what with uni being surprisingly boring. I was hoping I'd finish it before then, and I was also hoping I wouldn't have to use an author's note since I didn't want to be "that" writer, but I should let the people who follow this know there will be more thanks to those positive reviews (and my best friend being a tool in programming class), but I'm taking a moment to read and plan the finale of the story since I haven't touched it in months and forgot basically everything. In saying that, literally everything up to this point has been me going "you know what would be cool? This happening next" while I type. So yeah, this short extension is just to give you something while I think of what happens next.<em>

"A head?" asked Commander Ilupen. "What kind of fucking murder scene did you create?"

"The rest of his body was heavily armoured," explained Ogilvy. "This was his only weak point."

"So you took of his head in front of hundreds of civilians instead of trying to keep it at least a little civil? You know that the Federation has a terrible reputation and instead of doing your part to keep it from getting worse, you create a brutal mess in a place of commerce?"

"In my defence, his head was going to come off anyway."

"This isn't the time for humour, Sergeant Ogilvy."

"He's not trying to be funny," interrupted Aahmiah. "The attackers at the bar were fitted with some kind of silencing device that causes their heads to self-destruct and stop them from talking should we interrogate them. This one in particular malfunctioned due to sustained neck wounds and simply decapitated him. We kept the head to identify the attacker and hopefully learn where this aimbot is coming from."

"Aimbot?" asked Commander Ilupen.

"It's the name given to programs that give video game players an edge by giving them perfect accuracy at all times," explained Aahmiah. "We decided to give it that name since that's what it does; it gives the user almost perfect accuracy by seizing control of the body and targeting the head with whatever firearms they have. Sergeant Ogilvy has dealt with this before, but this case is different in that the attacker still had some control – it was only his reaction time that failed him."

"So this is linked to the massacre cases?"

"I believe so," answered Ogilvy. "Whoever is spreading this virus knows we are onto them as well. The attackers targeted me, and would've targeted only me if Aahmiah had not intervened."

"Well," said Ilupen, "at least no innocent civilians were harmed I presume."

"No civilian casualties or injuries to report, sir."

"Then at least we have that. Where is the head now?" The office doors burst open, and a hurried Pilkins trots in, holonote in hand.

"Sir, this is bad news," exclaimed Pilkins, "the head belongs to one of our own."


End file.
